CURFEW by Seth Campbell

Camp William Thatchet Fleming, or, more commonly known: "Camp WTF"; you can probably guess to what it’s supposed to mean. Aside from the complete disregard for logical sense, nothing has really ever gone down. Nothing, until two young boys decided to have a bet.

“THIS PLACE MAKES NO SENSE!!!!” Nick screamed his tonsils to oblivion. Staring at the discombobulated mess known as the main compound, Nick seethed in response to the ten-millionth NO SIGNAL message from his GPS. At least the day's nice; he thought happily, the weatherman had predicted rain. Eventually, two and a half hours later, he found the barracks. Second Floor: North Wing: Boy’s Barracks. At the exact moment he entered, all of hell’s fury had unleashed itself. This isn't your stereotypical “Animal House” style hell, this is the “Holy freaking crap what the heck are those other brothers doing?!” stuff. We’re talking not only bed jumping, but upside down bed jumping in a toga made from raw tortillas, playing DDR, in Slovak, Rickrolling each other. This was truly, the gateway to complete, and utter madness. “THIS IS SPARTA!” The tortilla toga-ed one shouted as he kicked a guy singing “Fool to Cry” in Slovak into a bunch of Rick Astley clones, narrowly missing Nick’s crap. He proceeded to navigating around the aftermath to the only empty bunk left, right smack-dab next to the toga guy. “My name’s Walter,” he forced out.

“I’m Nick,” he responded trying as hard as possible, albeit unsuccessfully, not to stare. Walter, taking notice to Nick’s “Do not want”behavior, broke the ice. “New?” Nick looked up, “Oh yeah.” Answering while unpacking; revealing everything to be in plastic baggies, even his socks. Walter and the others stare in amazement of this unprecedented level of order in their world of chaos.

Oohs and awes gushed out as everyone watched Nick unpack, like kittens watching tennis. The contents were the usual, shirts, shorts, underwear, socks, and then came the unusual, Nutella, baked cheese crackers, and a 1940’s era pocket dictionary. After adding his GPS to the mix, everyone, in realization that he’s done unpacking, returned to their antics. Walter stayed behind, staring at Nick.

“We haven’t had anyone new here for a while,” Walter began. “Does that explain the-?” Nick pulled his eyelids open so simulate staring, Walter smiled. Nick turned around to be suddenly greeted by the image of someone wearing a hockey mask two inches from his face; he stumbled backwards and fell on his butt. The guy in the mask began to laugh as he took his mask off.

“Always funny,” Ralph sneered, “I love the smell of fear in the afternoon.” Walter rolled his eyes while Nick began to realize that this camp's starting to live up to its name. “And I love the smell of a nice warm cup of go away,” Nick snapped back as he got up. “Make me,” Ralph taunted.

“Not again,” Walter worried, “Not again what?” Nick inquired innocently. “Initiation,”Ralph enlightened, “All newbies are expected to break themselves in by going out after curfew.” Nick laughed, “That’s stupid.” Walter pulled Nick away from Ralph. “Nick,” he convenes, “Ralph holds the camp record for longest out without getting caught, five hours fifteen minutes, and he has a black belt in karate, it’s not stupid.” Nick grew a devious smile, “I think I have an idea.”

Nick walked up to Ralph, basking in his own ego. “I hear you hold the record,”Nick proclaims, “so how ‘bout you and me have a bet.” Ralph raised his head, “I’m listening,” he responded. “I go out,” Nick begins, “after curfew, every hour I don’t get caught; you give me a hundred dollars.” Ralph raises an eyebrow, “A hundred dollars?” He questions, “No way in hell.” Nick shrugs, “Well if you’re afraid to lose, then I understand.” Ralph snaps up, “Hold it right there, I never said I was afraid,” he pauses for a moment, “All right I’ll do it.” Nick and Ralph shake hands. Walter stares with his mouth hanging open, “This is not happening.”

“Lights out!” Some chaperone nobody gives two craps about shouted as he leaves. The lights go out, a while later; a faint light turns on from under Nick’s sheets. He gets out of bed and, slowly, like a ninja, creeps his way to a window. As he opened it the gentle gust blew against his face. Nick took one last moment to look around, and then proceeded to climbing out onto the balcony.

As Nick made his way down the stairs, he saw a light, a chaperone was coming up his way, Nick immediately rushed over to a cabinet and hid in it, waiting for him to pass, and he waited and then went on. The wooden boards were heck on his feet; he had made the mistake of not bringing shoes. If you thought the main compound was a discombobulated mess during the day, you should see it at night. As Nick made his way to the western end, he decided to pay the girl’s barracks a little visit.

Second Floor: South Wing: Girl’s Barracks. He couldn’t believe it, The Forbidden Zone, The Chamber of Secrets, he was inches away from seeing what lurks within. What beckoned him, a pitch black room filled with unconscious girls. “Rip off,” he muttered. Suddenly the lights turned on, and with timed precision he shot down and out of sight. With that, he was out of there. With the girl’s barracks out of the question, Nick decided it would be a good idea to check out the grounds. They were the epitome of expansive. In mere seconds, he was as sure as heck lost.

After God-only-knows how long, he found probably the one thing that is on everyone’s “Last things I ever expect to find at a summer camp” list: An airstrip, a big airstrip at that. “Here goes nothing,” Nick whispers as he made his way in like a discreet ninja.

Inside the mindfuck known as the control room, it actually turns out to be like pretty much any other ground level aircraft control room. There are the screens and the radios, not much else. Nick combs through some paper on one of the desks, mostly maps and charts and crap. He finally comes across a copy of Twilight, and throws it in the trash. At the very moment the book landed in the trash, the radio turned on.

“May Day! May Day! June day! July Day! I don't know!” A voice screamed out from the radio. “This is WTF ground, what is it?” Nick put on the headset, nothing. “Hello?” he realized he was wearing it backwards, quickly fixed. “This is WTF ground, what’s wrong?”

“The pilot passed out.” The voice shouted. “Who’s flying it?” Nick inquired, “It’s flying itself, and it’s running out of gas!” Nick swallowed hard, “Can it land itself?” Static. “Hello?” Nick tapped the radio. “No! It can’t, and I can’t!” Nick could see the plane now. “Well that makes three of us, you, me, and it.”

Nick looks around, spots a radar monitor. All of a sudden, things start clicking in his head. “Question, is there a screen that looks like the plane from behind?” Nick asked. “You mean the stick with a tumor?” He replied. “It’s not a tumor,”Nick answered in a bad Arnold Schwarzenegger accent. “Whatever,” the other guy interrupted, “What do I do?” “Alright,” Nick fluttered through a large paperback. “I think I can guide you down, first step, disengage autopilot.” A small light on the radar panel turned off. “Good, now, are you using the plane’s controls?” Nick asked. “Yes,” he answered. “Now, do exactly as I say, when I say it,”Nick instructed. “Down, down, left, left, left, down, speed down. . . .” The plane began making a slow spiraled descent. “Down, left, down, speed up, speed down, left, right, straighten course. . . .”

The plane was now on a one-way path to the landing strip. “Speed down, speed down, up, up, down.” The plane was almost there. “Now,” Nick began, “You want to lightly scrape the surface and ride the brakes.” Nick started sweating, “easy does it, easy, easy, and . . . . Now.” With that, the plane lightly touched down and came to a smooth stop. Nick could start breathing again. “I think you can take it from here, bye,”Nick took the headset off, and was out there.

Meanwhile, back at the barracks, Ralph silently exited his bed, making his way to the end of the hall. By some strange convenience, Walter woke up, needing to go to the bathroom, and caught sight of Ralph heading down the hall. Knowing he was obviously up to no good, Walter slowly but swiftly, got out of bed and began following him. Ralph came to a stop just outside the barracks, Walter, spotting a potted plant, hid behind it. Ralph then proceeded to taking out a cell phone.

“Hello?” Ralph called in a fake voice, “I would like to report a kid out after curfew, goes by the name of Nick.” Walter gulped. “I don’t know ‘Where,’ I just know he’s out,”Ralph sneered, “Me? I’m just doing what I think is right.” Ralph put the cell phone away and began making it back to his bed, while Walter trailed him.

“You sick cheater!” Walter shouted, sending everyone else shooting up out of bed. Walter immediately plunged on Ralph, sitting on him. Someone turned on the lights, some were too tired for their brains to process what had just happened, and the others began asking why Walter woke them up. Walter pointed at Ralph, meaning, he pointed down. “He was going to rat Nick out.” He began, “He was going to cheat!” Everyone collectively gasped.

“Shut up,” Ralph forced out from under Walter’s butt, “And will you get off of me?!” Walter paused, as if contemplating the meaning of life and existence itself. “No,” Walter answered pretentiously. “Ha ha, I just laughed,” Ralph spit out, “And FYI: It’s not ‘Was going to’ it’s ‘Has,’ I haveratted Nick out,” Ralph had a look of smugness on him that you would swear he was breast fed by Donald Trump. “So I guess I’m winning,” Ralph cooed in a sort of singsong. “Guess who taped the bet,” Walter sang right back. Ralph’s smugness popped like a euphoric bubble of egotistical ecstasy.

“You didn’t,” Ralph uttered in shock. Walter then pulled a cassette from his pocket, “My friend here says different.” Ralph’s jaw dropped like he was already on the floor, which he was. “I hate you,”Ralph whispered, “I hate you so freaking much.” Walter adjusted his position on Ralph’s spinal cord, “Don’t worry,” he consoled, “you can thank me later.” Walter got up, freeing Ralph. “‘Cause right now, we’ve gotta help Nick. That means we, need to keep whoever they send looking for Nick, from succeeding.” Walter looked to Ralph, “And that means double for you, your butt’s on the line too.” Walter stepped forward,“So are we gonna help Nick be the first to stay out all night?” Everyone started cheering. Walter looked back to Ralph,“Let’s go.”

Nick left the airstrip feeling tired, checking his watch, it was one in the morning. He had beaten Ralph’s record by fifteen minutes. There was really no point in staying out any longer; he decided to head back to the boy’s barracks. For a much deserved, long, good night’s sleep. With that, he headed off thinking it was easy riding from there. But, we all know what happens when one gets cocky. . . .

“Not now!” Nick moaned in realization that he was again lost, again. He looked around like a complete idiot who didn’t know where he was. Oh God just kill me now, he thought to himself as he tried to make sense of the discombobulated mess put in backwards. He was considering going back to the airstrip and hitching a ride out of this acid trip. Nick ultimately decided to just try going straight forward, he would eventually find something.

“Okay, go!” Walter, now clad in a commando suit that he had for unknown reasons, shouted in whispers to everyone as they exited the barracks one by one out the window. He stopped Ralph as he was about to leave with the others. “You’re with me,” he instructed.

Nick wandered through a dark creepy cliché forest, wondering why a camp would even have a dark creepy cliché forest, but ended up just contemplating the allure of the dark creepy cliché forest. Suddenly, Nick heard people shouting, they were looking for something. It took Nick a few seconds to realize they were looking for him!

Without haste, Nick promptly but inconspicuously hauled his butt out of the forest right under their noses. Ralph, Nick thought to himself, you cheating weasel. There wasn’t time to sit around and wait to be caught Nick knew that, he had to get back to the barracks fast! With all that in mind, Nick took off for what looked like the main compound.

Walter and Ralph were leading the group as they snuck down to the main compound. “Everybody,” Walter instructed them all,“We’re gonna have to distract them, so let’s get their attention.” With that, everybody took their shirts off and tied them around their heads, giving a resemblance of long hair. Walter and Ralph followed suit before heading off with everyone else following them.

Nick was almost there, he could see the barracks, and more importantly taste it. But again, Nick’s cockiness got the best of him. There was a group of six-odd chaperones in his way, blocking the only path to safety. Nick’s heart sank; the light in his face went kaput. It’s over, he was screwed beyond logic, he should just come quietly. They mightgo easy on him. With knowing that by doing this he would forfeit the bet, Nick began to walk forward.

Just as Nick was about to walk within view of the chaperones, something happened, something that he would never forget no matter how old he lived to be. The chaperones caught sight of something, not Nick, but what appeared to be a bunch of girls running across the main compound. Little did they, or Nick for that matter, know that it was, in reality, the boys being led by Walter. The chaperones began chasing them; Nick seized the opportunity and started to head for the barracks, but halfway there, Nick realized that he was having more fun now than he had ever in his entire life. So, he turned around, and headed in the other direction back into the grounds, catching a glimpse of Walter, and knowing that with him distracting them, the chaperones would be busy for a very long time.

The next morning, round sunrise, everyone had been back in their beds for about an hour already, except Nick. Just five seconds before one of the chaperones came in to wake them up, Nick not only got in, but got in, closed the window, rushed silently across the room, got in bed, and pretended to be asleep, in five seconds (it’s not really that hard.)

At breakfast, Nick approached Ralph, who was enjoying his God-only-knows-what. “I believe you owe me some money,” Nick began, “say, about eight hundred bucks.” Ralph looked up at Nick, still eating his slop without a single expression on his face.

“No I don’t,” Ralph responded, “The handguide says gambling’s not allowed,” Ralph began to grow a devious smile, “If you don’t like it, that’s just hard cheese.” Nick’s smile disappeared in place with an angry frown. “What’s eating you?” Ralph joked while holding up some goo. “Want some?”

“SHUT UP FOOL I KILL YOU!!!!” Nick shouted. Ralph, getting the jist, bolted off at a considerable speed. Nick began chasing after Ralph, Walter, seeing what was going on, put down his peanut butter and tortilla sandwich and joined the fun.

THE END

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